Faith and Desire
by justsomebrittanagleek
Summary: If paying a little money means healing faster and getting back to normality, then Santiago doesn't mind. Because seriously, what harm can come from some physical therapy? - Genderswap!Santana/Brittiago
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Faith and Desire [1/7]  
**Characters: **Santiago Lopez, Brittany Pierce, Quinn Fabray, Sugar Motta, Sam Evans and Noah Puckerman  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Length: **5k  
**Summary: **If paying a little money means healing faster and getting back to normality, then Santiago doesn't mind. Because seriously, what harm can come from some physical therapy?

**Notes: **The information in this is most likely not correct as I only did some brief research online, so please don't take read too much into the time line and stuff. It's actually pretty hard to find out a lot about physical therapy online and their sessions, so I'm going off what I know and tidbits I found on the internet. Also based loosely off a plot I saw on a TV show that some of you may know quite well.

* * *

So, Santiago breaks his ankle.

He doesn't really know how it happened. One moment he's playing basketball with Puck and Sam, and the next he's lying on the court, a sharp pain shooting down his leg as he grasps at the throbbing limb, the ball slowly bouncing away from an attempted basket gone wrong. His friends look down at him, concern and worry etched across their faces and he's in so much pain he can't think of anything to shout apart from 'AMBULANCE' (many expletives, too) and twenty minutes later—and a lot of fucking pain—there's two EMT's scooping him up into a stretcher and taking him to the ER, inserting a drip into the back of his hand and telling him the drugs should kick in soon.

They do eventually, and it's all sort of a really painful blur of x-ray machines and various nurses inspecting his ankle until he's lying in a bed and a doctor comes in, holding a clipboard and peering at the notes over the rims of his glasses. Now, Santiago's a nice guy; he volunteers at the soup kitchen every weekend and donates ten percent of his pay check every month to a charity of his choice, but when the doctor just fucking stands there, hums and taps a thin finger against his chin, Santiago doesn't really feel like being nice. Especially not when he's taking his 'little brother' from the _Big Brother_ program out to a Knicks game next week and also sort of has a major case coming up in court in three days time.

"Doc, just tell me what's happened," he spits out, trying not to sound angry but knowing it comes across like that. "How screwed am I on a scale of one to ten?"

The doctor looks up at him, clearly not impressed by his attitude. "Well, you've certainly done a number on yourself," he says, exhaling loudly and letting his hand drop down by his side, the other now grasping an x-ray. He walks over to the wall where there's one of those machines that lets doctors or nurses see the x-rays and he flicks on the switch, making Santiago wince at the brightness. "See here," he says, pointing to the x-ray and tracing along the bones there. "You've managed to fracture both the medial and lateral malleoli, along with a slight fracture to the posterior lip of the tibial plafond."

Santiago blinks, all medical words completely lost on him. "Right..." he draws out, eyes flicking to a nurse as she walks in, grasping a bucket and bandages. He assumes it's for his cast. "And that means..."

"It means that you've severely fractured your ankle," the doctor says outright. "And that you're going to be in a cast for at least eight weeks."

It's not the best news in the world and so Santiago throws his head back, letting it thunk against the hard pillow. His eyes squeeze shut and he lets out a small noise of frustration, hands balling up by his side as he thinks of how many things he's going to have to cancel. Eight freaking weeks; that's the _least _he's going to have a freaking broken ankle for and that's totally going to fuck up so many plans for him. Not to mention he's going to have to go into court on crutches and that doesn't exactly scream 'professional lawyer,' plus his little brother Tyler is going to be super upset now he can't go to the game.

"Eight weeks?" He groans, tilting his head back up to look at the doctor. That's just fucking ridiculous. "Is that really necessary?"

"If you ever want to walk again without pain or a limp, then yes."

Santiago's face drops. "So eight weeks? That's it, right?" He pauses and looks at his doctor. "That's tops, right?"

The nurse begins working at his leg, slowly dipping the bandages into the white goopy paste Santiago now see inside the bucket and his eyes are trained on her for so long that he doesn't notice the way his doctor shakes his head and brings his clipboard up again, scanning over something on there.

"Unfortunately, no, Mr Lopez."

He whips his head around so fast he considers asking the nurse for some painkillers for the pain now in his neck. "What do you mean, no?"

"If we don't see any healing of any of these fractures after eight weeks," the doctor starts, still not looking up from his clipboard as he reaches into the breast pocket of the white jacket covering his body and scribbles onto it. "Then we may have to take further action."

Brown eyes narrow. "What do you mean 'further action'? And why wouldn't we see any healing?"

Now his doctor looks up, almost sharply. "Any fractures that don't show any radiographic evidence of healing after eight weeks should be evaluated for adjunctive measures," he replies and Santiago kind of wishes the guy would just dumb it down for him. He's smart, a top lawyer, but he doesn't get medical terms. Even if his dad is a doctor. "And you may not heal if you're stressed or try to force yourself into healing by walking."

"Doc, seriously, just dumb it down for me. I don't know your lingo."

The doctor lets out a heavy sigh and drops the pen onto the board, swiping the glasses off his face and rubbing at an eye, the other trained on Santiago. "I'm saying that if you don't heal, or if you try walking on it when it's not one hundred percent healed and damage it further, due to the severity of the fracture, you may have to do some physical therapy after another few weeks of wearing a cast to ensure you're back to your good old walking self."

There's probably nothing less upsetting that but it's not exactly like he can do anything about it so he thanks his doctor, bids farewell and lets the nurse wrap his leg up into a cast from the ball of his foot to just below his knee where it's going to stay for at least eight weeks.

At least if he takes it easy, that's all it'll be.

* * *

Okay, so the whole taking it easy thing doesn't go as well as planned.

Turns out, having a leg in a plaster cast is actually really fucking inconvenient and his boss tells him to take the weeks off as he's been great for the past few years and it's a well deserved rest. It pisses him off even more because he doesn't need that kind of sympathy, especially since he hates that, but he's being paid for the weeks off and he's in no position to argue really so he doesn't. Instead lets Sam pick him up and drive him around everywhere, basically acting like his servant for four weeks.

But then it's at the four week point that this damn cast thoroughly fucks him off, and so he decides to go out on his own, taking the boot his doctor gave to him to use at six weeks when the bone's should've healed enough to walk on. He manages to get to the store on the corner of his street with only minor pain during the walk, buy a few items and even get halfway home before anything happens; but then there's that same searing pain in his leg as he steps awkwardly and a second later, he's on the floor, grasping his limb and screaming out in pain.

Well, fuck. There goes his ankle again.

Some kind passerby stops next to him and offers to help, quickly taking out her phone and dialing a number and Santiago smiles up at her, suddenly distracted by the blue eyes and blonde hair this girl has. She's gorgeous, and if Santiago were in any other situation that wasn't lying on the dirty pavement of Los Angeles streets, he'd probably try and catch this girls eye and figure out a way to subtly suggest that they should go out for coffee some time or whatever. Lame but when he's on a roll and not lying on the cold ground with a broken ankle, he totally has game.

"The ambulance will be here in a few minutes," the girl says and Santiago just stares, switching between focus on the pain and the smile on the girls face. Holy crap, she's beautiful; and he's two seconds away from saying that out loud when some douche walks by and kicks his leg, causing him to throw his head back and shout many curses that he knows he shouldn't be yelling considering there's probably children around, as another spear of hot white pain spirals up his leg.

But then sooner than wanted, the ambulance arrives and the girl's smiling softly and tugging her bag up her shoulder, offering a kind smile and Santiago just stares as his opportunity passes him by as he's loaded into the ambulance, the door shutting and preventing him from ever knowing this girl again.

Well, there's two bad things that have happened today.

At least things can only look up, right?

* * *

"You're going to have to have surgery, Mr. Lopez."

Santiago's face drops, almost like he's surprised, but he really shouldn't be considering he decided to be a douche about his broken ankle and attempt to walk on it four weeks after breaking three freaking bones in it. Quite severely, may he add.

"Shit," he curses, tilting his head back against the hospital bed's pillow. "This is shit."

The same doctor from four weeks ago looks at him with a knowing expression and brown eyes roll. "You really should've taken my advice. I did warn you."

It's true, but that doesn't exactly fucking help, rubbing it in and all. "I know, doc," he sighs, knowing he's in the wrong. "So what's the surgery, then?"

The doctor walks toward the side of the bed and presses the clipboard to his hip where his arm dangles down. "We'll have to call in the orthopedic surgeon so your surgery won't be until tomorrow," he says and Santiago rolls his eyes again. Great. "And then we'll have to perform what we call an ORIF, but your surgeon will tell you all about that tomorrow after you've been prepped." He slips his glasses back onto his face and lifts a bushy, white eyebrow. "But for tonight you'll stay in hospital and we'll try to get you into surgery first thing in the morning."

Santiago supposes it's better than nothing, and he knows they'll give him all the morphine to keep away the pain and so he just nods and gives the doctor his thanks before the doctor heads out.

* * *

"Unfortunately," the surgeon starts, already prepped in his green scrubs. "We're going to have to use three screws and a plate to fix your ankle."

Not exactly expecting that, Santiago's eyebrows shoot up and he looks to Puck who seems equally as worried about the surgery. He's watched enough episodes of _ER_ to know that having to use plates and screws means the bone is _really _fucked up, and he doesn't exactly know what this means for his near future. Will he have to use a wheelchair? Where will he get the wheelchair? And shit, does he have to pay for a damn wheelchair?

Fuck, with that thought, is he going to have to pay for the surgery himself?

"Your insurance will cover all of this, it seems," the doctor chimes in from the corner of the room and Santiago shifts, tugging the left side of his hospital gown down a little further as a chill creeps up there. "But there may be some small expenses to pay after; but you can sort that out with the finance team at some point once you've healed."

"Okay," he draws out, blowing out his cheeks and looking to the surgeon. "So what happens?"

"As Doctor Johnson explained yesterday, we're going to have to perform a surgical procedure called ORIF," the surgeon elaborates, linking his hands behind him and standing at the foot of Santiago's bed, eyes switching between Puck and Santiago. The only reason Puck's here is because Sam had work, and apparently Santiago isn't allowed to go into surgery and come out and go home alone, so he had to have someone pretend to be his brother and well, Puck's kind of the closest person he has that could actually get away with it.

"What's that?" Puck asks, crossing his arms over his chest and furrowing his brow. "We don't know medical language, so you're gonna want to dumb it down," he says, lowering his voice and Santiago looks to him, knowing he's getting worked up.

"It stands for Open Reduction Internal Fixation," the doctor grits out and Puck shoots him a glare for not explaining further which makes Santiago call his name and tug a little on his metaphorical leash to hold him back. Puck's always listened to Santiago for some dumb ass reason, but right now it doesn't seem so dumb. There's no point in getting angry at the doctors when they're just helping Santiago.

"Generally, this uses plates, screws or in some cases, intramedullary rods—metal rods—to stabilize the bone," the surgeon continues, trying to lighten the tension in the room. Santiago nods along, trying to take it all in whilst Puck shifts beside him, either bored or hesitant about the operation. "You'll be taken to theater, given a general anesthetic so you won't feel anything, and have your bones repaired by me," the surgeon points to himself and smiles. "The surgery will take a few hours, but hopefully after we've bandaged you up and given you a few hours to wake up, you'll be set to go home."

Well there's the best news for the day, and it makes Santiago smile for the first time in what feels like ages. He smiles gratefully, thanks his doctor and the surgeon and punches Puck in the back of the thigh lightly until his best friend does the same, grumbling out a similar—but much more reluctant—thanks.

But just as the surgeon and the doctor are leaving the room, the doctor turns around and looks down to his chart, catching Santiago's eye and pulling him from his conversation with Puck about where he's going to stay afterward.

"Oh, and you're going to need to do several weeks of physical therapy," the doctor informs Santiago and his face drops for the millionth time today. "We'll assign you one but it's more than likely that you'll have to pay for that yourself, but it will speed up your healing process so really it's your choice."

"Thanks, doc," Santiago forces out with a grin. "I'll see you when I get out."

If paying a little money means healing faster and getting back to normality, then Santiago doesn't mind.

Because seriously, what harm can come from some physical therapy?

* * *

"Hey, Puck?"

Puck looks up from the magazine. "Yeah?"

"Have you ever..." Santiago finds difficulty in figuring his words as he drums his fingertips over his abs, covered by a hospital gown. He wants to ask Puck something, but he's not entirely sure how he's supposed to phrase it. Hell, he's not even sure why he's fucking asking because he's been lying in this damn bed, waiting for surgery for three hours and all he's been thinking about is that chance encounter with that random blonde chick that helped him when he fell on the sidewalk and it's ridiculous. They didn't even speak a word to each other and their eyes met about three times in total, yet she seems to be stuck in his freaking mind.

"Have I ever what, Lopez?" Puck repeats, flicking over a page in his magazine and looking back down to it. Santiago shifts in his bed, breathing out heavily and rubbing his lips together as he contemplates a way to put this. Shit. He's so dumb he might just make some shit up. "Seriously, bro, spit it out."

He looks up to find Puck's eyes on him and it just comes spilling out. "I met a girl."

Puck's face splits into a grin and he lifts his hand triumphantly. "Score," he says, pride in his tone as he bobs his head approvingly. "What's her name?"

And here comes the stupid part. "I don't even know."

"What?" Puck's face has now dropped and his head's cocked to the side like a confused puppy. "How have you met her then?"

"She... She rang the ambulance when I fell," he says, realizing as he hears it out loud how freaking dumb he's being. "I... I don't even know what I'm talking about."

The sound of paper slapping the floor grabs his attention and his eyes snap to the left, finding Puck shifting to the edge of his seat and clasping his hands together, the magazine now lying on the floor. Shit must have just got serious because Santiago's like, ninety nine percent sure that there were some half-naked women and a lot of side boobs in there, too.

"What did you guys talk about?"

Santiago looks at him, his face growing hotter by the second. Fuck. Talking about this really was fucking stupid. "Uh... We—We didn't actually... Talk," he tells his friend, dipping his head and thumbing over the fabric of his hospital grown. "She just called and I was kind of... Distracted," he tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at Puck. "By her."

Puck stares at him, and Santiago thinks his friend's about to say something serious but then Puck just barks out a laughter and throws his head back, an arm flinging over his stomach as he continues laughing. Santiago just looks away, sighing and rolling his eyes and wonders why he thought telling Puck, of all people, about a girl he didn't even know.

"You—You didn't even—" Puck's words are cut off by his laughter as he wipes at the tears at the corner of his eye. "You didn't even _speak to her?_" He manages to get out, his face still cracking out a smile as small bursts of chuckles. "The fuck you taking? I need me some of that!"

Really, Santiago should've known any better and before he can leap out of bed—with difficulty—and rip Puck's windpipe out to stop that fucking noise that makes Santiago feel like a complete fucking idiot, the surgeon and a few nurses walk in, telling him that it's time for his surgery.

He's wheeled out the room with the sound of his supposed 'best friend' wetting himself behind him.

Puck's such a fucking douche, and now Santiago's not going to think about that girl because what's the chances he's ever going to see her again?

* * *

The few weeks after the surgery are really fucking painful. Not just physically painful, but like, painful in life. It's so damn inconvenient to be on crutches and have a fucking great big cast wrapped around his leg, especially when he feels like he should be doing something when he's just lounging around at home. But now it's been almost two months and he's so freaking close to getting a chainsaw and just cutting this damn cast off himself that he actually requires full time company from someone, which today happens to be Sam.

"Sit down, bro," the blonde guy demands as he wanders into the living room, carrying two plates.

Santiago looks up at him. "Shut up, Trouty," he growls, reluctantly lowering himself back to the sofa and switching the channel. "I was only getting the remote."

The blonde guy rolls his eyes and throws himself into the arm chair, kicking both feet up onto the coffee table after sliding one of the plates across the coffee table to Santiago. "What? You're not gonna pass it and baby the crap outta me anymore?" Santiago quirks, looking at the plate that he has to lean forward and stretch for.

"Mofpe," Sam muffles through a bite of his sandwich, swallowing audibly. "You've got a broken ankle not a broken back. Plus I'm only helping out as your bro."

"Yet you're still treating me like I'm disabled," Santiago fires back, reaching forward to grab the plate (with slight difficulty) and pulling it back onto his lap. He picks it up and takes a large bite.

"You kinda are."

"Frokem manple," he points to the cast on his leg as he chews, parroting his best friends words. "Mot frokem map."

Sam throws a crust at him and Santiago laughs as he swallows, promptly being cut off by the sound of his cell phone ringing. He mouths 'douche' to the other guy as he picks it up, mumbling, "hello," into it.

"_Hello, is this Mr Santiago Lopez?"_

Santiago nods but realizes he should probably reply as the girl down the phone can't see him. "Yep. Who's this?"

"_This is Miss Motta from BP's Physical Therapy Center," _the girl replies in a cheerful tone. "_Doctor Johnson has told you about the sessions you should have for your ankle, yes?"_

"Yeah... But why are you calling me?" He asks, slightly confused. He's got the number of the physical therapist in his bedside table and was told that he had to ring them. "Doc said I should call you."

"_He did, but your surgeon asked us to give you a call personally."_

Brown eyes narrow. "Why?"

"_You were given the phone number two weeks ago and you were scheduled to have your first session last week, but you failed to call and so the surgeon thought he should follow up with us."_

Okay, maybe that's true, but Santiago kind of stubborn. It's the worst quality about him, or so his ex-girlfriends have told him, and he just can't help but think he can heal on his own. Hell, if he didn't have constant care, he'd totally have taken this cast off by now and gone for a run of something. The lack of exercise and movement is freaking _killing _him, and he just wants to get back to his normal life including his job, his morning routine including exercise and his damn motorbike!

So that's why he didn't want to ring, and that's why he decided to forgo telling Sam about the therapy, knowing that Puck wasn't going to remember because the words didn't come from a woman and that's the only way he'd listen.

"But I thought it was my choice?" Santiago brings up, remembering his doctor's words. "Doctor Johnson said it was optional as I had to pay for myself.

"_It is optional, Mr. Lopez, but it's also highly recommended as it'll speed up your recovery and get you back to your normal self quicker than going without."_

Damn it. "Fine," he lets out through an exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose and ignoring the quizzical glance Sam sends him. "When's my session?"

"_You've got a session booked for tomorrow at 8am," _the girl informs him. "_We took the liberty of booking one for you."_

Definitely took the liberty alright. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

"_I'm just the receptionist, Mr. Lopez. You'll be with Doctor Pierce tomorrow for your session."_

Santiago's hand drops from his face. "Okay, thank you. Bye."

"_Bye."_

The phone line goes dead and Sam throws him another look, one this time Santiago doesn't ignore.

"What was that?"

He throws his phone onto the space next to him on the sofa and picks up his sandwich again. "Got a session tomorrow," he says, eying his sandwich. "Hope you're free at eight in the morning 'cause you're taking me."

Sam's eyes narrows. "Well you did say you were helping out," Santiago mumbles, copying his friends words from earlier and adding in a grin that he knows going to piss off the other guy.

And it works because moments later another bread crust hits him in the cheek.

* * *

Sam puts on the handbrake and Santiago looks toward the building with the sign _BP'S PHYSICAL THERAPY _written on the sign hanging above the door. It obviously isn't a large center, nor a popular one, but if it was recommended by Santiago's surgeon then he isn't going to ask twice about it. He's not an asshole, and he didn't act like one toward the surgeon—he was his usual lovely self, actually—so he's trusting that the guy wouldn't have sent him to a place that looks like a physical therapy center but actually homes twelve crack dealers.

"Well, here you go," Sam says, running a hand over the driving wheel. "You want me to come in?"

Santiago lifts an eyebrow at him as he grabs his crutches. "I'm good," he says, struggling slightly to open the door and hold his crutches at the same time. Luckily, Sam reaches over his lap and pushes it open for him, helping him out. "Thanks," he climbs out the car and turns, hobbling on one leg and using his arms to steady himself on the crutches. "What time you picking me up?"

"I'm gonna go chill at Rachel's for a bit so just text me ten minutes before you need picking up."

"Okay," he bobs his head in acknowledgment. Rachel and Sam have been dating for like, a few months now and even though the chick's kind of annoying, she and Sam are cute together so Santiago will deal. "Thanks, Evans. See you later."

He nudges the door shut with his elbow and Sam salutes to him from the inside before driving off, leaving Santiago to turn and look at the center a second before hobbling toward it.

Well, here goes nothing.

* * *

He gets through the front door with difficulty, wondering why there isn't one of those disabled buttons you can push to automatically open the door considering this is a physical therapy center, but then finds a small, brunette grinning at him from behind the desk, quickly rounding it to come to his aid. It's a little late, but he's not a dick and so he smiles gratefully and allows her to lead him to the reception desk.

"I'm assuming you're Santiago Lopez?"

Said man nods. "Yep," he confirms, taking the weight off his arms by leaning on the desk when he gets there.

The girl quickly rounds it again and sits back down on the chair, turning her attention to the computer and typing a few things before her eyes shift back to him. "Doctor Pierce will be with you in a few minutes," she says and he reads her name 'Sugar' on her name badge. That's gotta be fake, right? "Do you need any help to take a seat?"

"Nah, I'm good, thank you. But I was wondering," he starts, looking down at the cast on his leg. "I've still got my bandage slash cast thing on so how am I supposed to do this?"

"This is just your introductory session, Mr. Lopez," Sugar says and Santiago stops her quickly.

"Call me Santiago."

"Okay, Santiago," Sugar starts again, smiling. "Well this is your introductory session so Brit—Doctor Pierce," she quickly corrects, scooting forward in her chair and clasping her hands over the desk in front of her. "Will just outline how many weeks you'll do and what you'll do in each week. She'll assess your injury, predict how long it'll take for your sessions to fully take effect and most importantly, discuss finances and payments."

Santiago takes it all in, nodding along with each point before he's finally satisfied and flashes a dazzling smile. "Thanks, Sugar. Also, how much is a session?"

"Around $100 an hour, but honestly it varies with each patient."

His eyes narrow. "Isn't that like, illegal?"

"Doctor Pierce doesn't go by injuries, exactly," Sugar draws out, tilting her head and letting her eyes drift off, lips twisting up at the side like she's trying to figure out a way to explain something but having some difficulty.

"So what does she go by?"

Sugar grins and meets his eye. "You'll see."

And Santiago wants to know more, but then Doctor Pierce appears out of nowhere and well, he pretty much forgets his own name.

* * *

**Random idea I had in my head and it's finally come out. Tell me what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Faith and Desire [2/7]  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Length: **5k

**Notes: **Thank you for all the feedback guys. Enjoy the second part!

* * *

"Pavement guy," are the first words that Doctor Pierce says to Santiago.

It takes him a moment to get what the hell she's talking about, but then it registers and the two click. "Ambulance girl," he replies, his lips shifting into a grin. "You were the one to call those guys when I fell over."

Blue eyes sparkle and him and he coughs, forcing himself to look away. _That's_ going to be distracting during their sessions.

"And you were the one to fall over because you shouldn't have been walking on a badly broken ankle," she fires back with a grin and Santiago leans back off the desk, pushing his hands back onto the handles of his crutches and struggling to turn to the side, having to hop a few times until he's completely facing his doctor. "You were lucky I was there otherwise you would've been stepped on."

Something in that sentence makes him a little breathless and he chokes out a, "I definitely was lucky."

It seems he's not the only one to see the double meaning behind his words because Sugar giggles from behind the desk, covering her mouth and Santiago wonders if Doctor Pierce has the same effect on every patient she has. But he doesn't get time to focus on those thoughts too much because the blonde doctor is picking up the clipboard from the top of the desk and looking over at him with bright blue eyes that makes him wonder if he ate something weird earlier because his stomach's fluttering here, there and fucking everywhere.

"You ready for your session?" She asks and Santiago grins, eagerly steadying himself with his crutches.

"Lead the way," he quirks, nodding his head and a dazzling grin is flashed his way as Doctor Pierce spins away and skips into the back room.

After shaking himself out of the slight stupor the girl's just put him in (and ignoring the way Sugar's smirking at him) he hobbles in for his session.

* * *

Doctor Pierce walks around the room like she owns it; and okay, maybe she does_ actually_ own it, but there's something in her walk that's absolutely hypnotizing and powerful. Her hips sway, legs glide in and out like she's weaving a basket and her feet twist like she's moving to an imaginary beat.

And yeah, Santiago acknowledges how unbelievably creepy he is, just staring at his physical therapist as she wanders around the room, tapping her pen against her clipboard and letting her eyes (covered by thin, black rimmed glasses) roam over the page, but he just can't help it, okay? She's pretty fucking incredible and he's only just met the damn woman.

Maybe after all those weeks of taking prescription drugs, they're catching up with him.

"So, you broke your ankle playing basketball?"

Santiago blinks out of his thoughts, turning his attention to the blonde doctor as he shifts on hospital bed where his legs dangle over the edge. "Yeah," he confirms, clearing his throat when his voice comes out a little croaky. "Went to shoot a hoop and it just went. My friends didn't help me up for like, five minutes 'cause they thought I was kidding."

Blue eyes flicker to him. "Sounds like you have great friends," she quirks and he smirks.

"Yeah," he replies, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "They're kind of douche bags."

"_Mmhmm,_" the blonde doctor replies. "So after you broke it, you had how many weeks of healing before you tried walking on it with the boot?"

Santiago bites his lip, feeling like he's being told off. "Four weeks," he mumbles.

"And you were told to walk on it when?"

His eyes flicker up as he drones out, "Six weeks."

A smile plays at the doctor's lips as she comes over to the bed, standing directly in front of him and grinning down like she knows something. "So do you regret doing that now you've got bits of metal in your leg and have to suffer through seven weeks of physical therapy with me?"

"Not even a little," he admits and lets his face drop when he realizes what he said. Seriously; _no _game. "I mean, yep," he forces a cough when he finds blue eyes grinning down at him. "It's going to be awful."

The blonde lets out the most delicious laughter and Santiago feels his insides melt at the sound. "It'll be over before you know it," she says and twists back around, placing her clipboard onto the table behind her before turning back. "Now has Sugar told you about what this session will include and how much each one will be?" Santiago nods and the doctor smiles. "Great. So first of all, you can call me Brittany."

Santiago grins. "Brittany," he repeats, nodding to himself at the way the name rolls of his tongue. "It suits you."

"Do names ever not suit people?" Brittany fires back, playfully, adjusting the lapels of her white polo shirt before coming over to him and gesturing for him to shimmy back on the bed and lie down.

"Sometimes. I mean, I've got a cousin called Darwin and he's the blackest Latino I've ever seen," he says, sucking in a sharp breath when Brittany's hands gently lift his ankle. It doesn't really hurt but he knocked it a week or so ago and damn near cried, so he's pretty much wary about any touch applied to it. "And it's kind of a white name."

Blue eyes flash to him. "Interesting," she murmurs with a smile and Santiago thinks he's not getting something but he doesn't have time to ask before cool, slender fingers and slowly removing the bandage from around his leg, unreeling it from his calf and letting the cool air rush in and soothe over his once covered skin. It's been so long that he shivers at the temperature change on his leg.

"So it looks like you've healed nicely," she points out and Santiago props himself up on his elbows to peer down at his ankle, seeing two identical gnarly ass scars running from just above the sticking out bone either side of his foot to just above the arch of it. "Which means we can probably get started on your official sessions today," she says, looking up and meeting his eye.

He stares at her, taking in the way her lips are slowly curving up at the side and wonders why she's doing that but then figures out that duh, he's freaking _staring _at her. Not even subtly, like quite obviously, so of course she's going to be smiling. He looks like a total idiot right now.

"Okay," he forces out through a dry throat, trying to forget about that he was just gawping at his physical therapist. "So what first?"

"First we're going to talk about how long you've been playing basketball for."

Santiago's eyebrows pinch together as confusion runs through him. "Wh—AH!"

A sharp pain runs up his ankle as delicate hands bend back his ankle in a way that hasn't been done in months. It's sore, and he wants to jerk his foot away as he scowls at Brittany but he knows it's only her job, and she's trying to make him better.

Still, it doesn't stop him from half-yelling, "What the hell!?"

"I said we should talk about you and basketball," Brittany says innocently, adding in a little shrug and Santiago just looks at her.

"To what? Distract me?"

The blonde doctor offers a soft nod, her lips pulling down at the side like that's obvious. "Well, yeah. You've just broken your ankle so rehabilitation isn't going to be pain free, and it's better to talk about something during your hour sessions," she shrugs and strokes her fingertips up Santiago's calf absently. "Plus it means I get to know my patients better which is never a bad thing."

Brown eyes narrow and he tries not to pay too much attention to the fingertips skimming over his skin because he's sure that they're not actually doing any exercises right now nor is this part of the session which technically means Brittany doesn't need to be touching him, but it feels nice and like, he's a guy and a hot blonde's touching him so he hasn't got a problem with it. Still though, he's not entirely sure he wants to talk about basketball and all that because if he's honest, he'd rather listen to her and hear what her life is like, outside of the clinic or even inside. He doesn't really care. All he wants to talk about is her so he can find out more about her. Though he supposes if he gives information about himself, she's only going to reciprocate at some point and so he begins.

"What do you wanna know?"

Brittany's eyes flicker to him. "Who says I wanna know anything?" She quirks, lifting an eyebrow and his face slowly cracks into a smile. "And anything. Just talk about yourself."

He's not entirely sure this is protocol as he begins blabbing about his life, but he's just going to roll with it and hope she talks about herself at some point. It's not like they're running short of time so the hope is always there.

* * *

"So, how was your sesh?" Puck asks as he throws himself down onto the armchair, flinging a leg over the arm and cracking open a bottle of beer with his teeth, spitting the lid onto Santiago's apartment floor. They're not doing anything tonight, just like every other freaking night thanks to Santiago's broken ankle, just chilling around, watching some horror movie on the television and waiting for the hot pizza delivery girl to drop off their dinner.

Santiago eyes the bottle cap. "You better pick that up," he growls before thinking about his question. "And it was good. Painful, but good."

He wants to tell Puck about how the douche was wrong and the girl he met on the street hasn't just disappeared and that now he knows her name as has been touched by her many times. Maybe not in the way that Puck would like to hear about, but that would totally be Puck's fault for thinking that Santiago meant it in _that _way.

But anyway, he _wants _to tell Puck, but there's something tugging at the back of his mind saying that he shouldn't. Not because like, he's ashamed or whatever, because he's totally not, but just because it's been his first session and he doesn't want to look like a total cock if he completely flops on his plan to somehow seduce his physical therapist. Plus, he kind of likes his alone time with Brittany. He likes there little chats, and sure, Brittany hasn't divulged any of her personal information like Santiago has, but they've only had one damn session together. Next week's might be different.

(Hopefully.)

"When's your next one?"

"Next Wednesday. Why?"

Puck shrugs. "Just wondering"

"Right," Santiago draws out, suspicion sizzling through him. "My one after that is also Wednesday at 8am, in case you were also 'just wondering,'" Santiago settles back into the couch and realizes that Puck might have actually been trying to be nice for once. It strikes him a little odd but glances at his friend, smirking. "You weren't just wondering. You wanna take me."

Puck roars out in laughter. "Hell no. I'm not waking up at 8am to get your broken ass to therapy. Get the bus."

Okay, maybe he wasn't trying to be nice. Or if he was then he's totally just gone back on his word. But still, Santiago knows how to play this. Sam can't take him every week, it's not fair, and so Puck's got to chip in at some point and Santiago knows exactly how he's going to get him to do it.

"Shame," he sighs, inwardly applauding himself at this genius plan. "The receptionist is actually pretty hot."

Puck immediately perks up, eyes narrowing as if he's trying to read his bullshit radar. "How hot?" He asks, carefully, his voice low.

"An eight, I'd say," Santiago shrugs like it's not a big deal and totally leaves out that the actual therapist is like, two tens put together. "Maybe even a nine."

His friend sinks back into the armchair with a grunt, taking a long pull of his beer and Santiago totally knows even before he hears what his friend has to say that he has won this. He's got a lift there and home. Score.

"Fine. I'll get up at seven and we'll be there for quarter to."

Santiago throws him a quizzical look. "Quarter to? Why?"

"So I can chat up the reception obviously," Puck says, letting out a loud burp.

Santiago just rolls his eyes.

* * *

Sugar leads him into a different room for his next session, a bigger one this time. It still has one of those weird therapy bed things, but it also has soft mats strewn across the floor, a few pieces of gym equipment pushed up against the wall and even a book case propped up by the entrance to the room. The walls are painted an off white, basically a beige, and there's bamboo plants in each corner of the room next to the windows which illuminate the room as the sun shines through them.

All in all, it doesn't really look like a physical therapy room, but then again he supposes this is the only one he's seen so whatever.

He takes a seat on the bed as Sugar tells him that Doctor Pierce will be in soon, and she walks out, closing the door after propping his crutches up against his leg, heading back to Puck who's no doubt waiting for her in the waiting room still. Anyway, the time he's given allows him to have a look around the room, and he clutches onto the edge of the bed as he finds himself staring at the book case, narrowing his eyes and trying to read some of the titles on the spines of them; and it's when he's tilting his head to the side and reading _'Perks of Being a Wallflower'_ on the spine that an idea strikes him.

In some ways, it's kind of lame. No, scratch that, it's _incredibly _lame, but for some reason it seems to be a good idea right now. If he can't seem to get any information out of Brittany, or doesn't by the end of this session, then he's just going to go with it and pretend like they have something in common. That'll get the ball rolling, right? If he conveniently starts talking about the book and she obviously likes it and has read it because it's here in the room then they'll start talking more and will want to know what else they have in common, right?

And that can only be good.

Right. That's his plan then.

The door swings open barely a second later and he straightens his back from where he was leaning forward, eyes darting to the door where Brittany stands, hair tied into a loose bun on her head, golden strands of hair framing her face from where they've fallen out and shit, if she's drop dead gorgeous looking like this then Santiago wonders if he ever gets to take her out, how the hell is she going to look all dressed up?

"Hey," she breathes, gliding into the room and letting the door close behind her. He watches her move about the room, place her clipboard down, untuck the hem of her baby blue polo from her black pants and basically just relax, and finds it incredibly. He doesn't quite know how someone can do something so mundane and make it so fascinating, but Brittany's sure as hell doing it.

"You okay?" He asks, sensing a little tension in the air from her side.

She nods and tucks back a piece of hair. "Yeah," she sighs unconvincingly. "Just had a busy day."

Their sessions have been at 8am for the past two weeks, but today his was scheduled as Brittany's last one of the day, according to Sugar which means it's going on four in the afternoon.

"How come?" He pries, wanting to get to know his therapist more but also knowing that he's being kind of nosy.

Brittany exhales heavily, tugs the band from her hair and lets her hair fall down over her shoulder as she shakes her head, fingers running through blonde locks. The smell of her shampoo is somehow powerful enough to shoot straight over to Santiago and he inhales unsteadily, his eyes fluttering shut as it hits him and holy crap, she smells awesome. How did he not notice that before?

"Personal life," the blonde finally says and Santiago takes the tone as a sign to not go any further. It's not hard or whatever, it's just soft and airy, like she's tired of thinking about it, let alone talk about it and so he just drops the subject, instead kicking his feet like a child, ignoring the protest in his ankle, and letting his lips curve up a little as he looks at her.

"Well, I'm here to cheer you up now," he grins and realizes how dumb he just sounded.

Except Brittany just smiles gently back at him, her shoulders relaxing and eyes softening as they look into his. "Yeah," she agrees and something flutters within him. They may have only had two sessions together, this being their third, but he feels like they're friends already. "You are."

He clears his throat when they stare at each other for a little longer than necessary. "So what's on the rota today?"

"Scar management techniques, eversion and inversion isometrics and a discussion about your assistive device."

Santiago blinks. "In English?"

Brittany's face splits into a grin. "Getting rid of that angry red mark on your ankle, ankle exercises and we're going to talk about your crutches."

"Ah," he says, nodding to show he understands. "Now I can understand you and that all sounds... Good, I guess?" His face scrunches up, nose twisting and lips pressing together. "I mean, better than a double session with stretches and intense pain," he says, referring to last week's session where he thinks he tried to push himself a little too hard.

"Probably," Brittany agrees, coming over to the bed and slowly reaching down to his legs, ushering them up onto the bed so she can begin his warm up stretching. "So how's your ankle been now it's completely out of any bandages?"

"Not bad. It's a little weird 'cause I keep thinking I can walk on it now nothing's there but I only end up with some pain."

Fingers wrap around his ankle, the tips applying the lightest of pressures as Brittany turns her head to look up his body at him. "Does it hurt here when you stand on it?" She says, squeezing a little harder to the space below the the protruding bone of his ankle and earning a yelp and a nod. "Yeah, that's nothing to worry about. These two bits here?" She releases her hand and gently presses the pad of her pointer finger to the two bones that stick out either side of his ankle. "Are the medial and lateral malleoli, or individually, the lateral malleolus and the medial malleolus." He blinks at her, confused. "Two of the three bones you fractured," she elaborates.

He nods slowly in understanding. "So that's why it hurts when I walk?"

"Well, yeah," she says, plainly, taking her hand away and pulling them back to herself. Santiago's skin suddenly tingles, almost ice cold, from the loss of warmth on his skin but he chooses not to say that out loud. How embarrassing. "But combined with the fracture of the tibial plafond, it'll make walking so much more difficult and that's why you need me to help you."

That's something he already knows, and to be honest he thinks that breaking his ankle might actually become a good thing. "Right. What's the tribal plato thing?"

"The tibial plafond is at the end of the shin bone, just above the ankle joint," she begins and her hands automatically reach for his ankle, smoothing round his calf and up toward his shin. Her eyes lock onto his and he tries to keep his breathing regular, but it's getting pretty damn hard. "And you broke the posterior lip of the tibia," she pauses as her hand glides back around to the back of his ankle, thumbs rubbing circles over the sensitive skin near his achilles tendon.

"Which is this bit here," she emphasizes by applying a little more pressure and he sucks in a sharp gasp, not because she just touched his kind of still broken ankle, but because as she walks talking, at some point her other hand was drifting up his thigh and is now resting high on his knee, basically on his thigh. She doesn't seem to notice and instead keeps staring into his eyes. "And because of all these fractures are together, we're going to have to give you gentle exercises to do at home to keep the knees and hips going to ensure that the muscle groups haven't gotten too weak during the time your fractured has healed."

His throat is tight and thick, and he swallows against it with difficulty as he grips tighter against the edge of the bed. Something he wasn't even aware he was doing. "Is that why I... Erm, have to have crutches?"

The beginning's of a smirk plays at Brittany's lips and Santiago wonders whether she knows the effect he's having on her. His breathing's heavier, his heart thudding loudly against his chest but as he looks at her, he doesn't quite know whether she's just being playful, or flirting, or completely unaware that she's actually kind of turning him on. Any way, though, it's frustrating in the best way possible and he finds himself smirking back at her, his eyes darting between hers as he tries to read her.

But then she answers his question with a sprightly, "Yes," before squeezing his thigh and squeezing his ankle too, a little gentler than his thigh, and pulling back her hand, twirling around back to the exercise equipment laid out on the floor.

"So, shall we get on with the stretches?" She suggests, sweeping out a hand to the mat and smiling at him.

And shit, he might actually die of sexual frustration because of this woman.

Still, he hops off the bed on one leg and lowers himself to the mat, trying to ignore the way blood rushes to his groin when Brittany parts his legs and kneels between them, taking his ankle into her hand and using her other one to bend it back slightly.

Yep. He's going to die.

* * *

"So have you hit on hot physical therapist yet?"

Santiago's eyes slide to him, narrowing as they go. "What?"

"Your physio," Puck elaborates, checking out a girl as she passes the bar. "She's hot."

He's leaning back on it, elbows braced behind him and he must think he looks pretty cool but in reality looks like a total douche. Santiago just rolls his eyes at him as he leans his right side against the bar, the cane tucked beneath it and out of sight because hello? Total cock block.

"So?"

"So," Puck starts, looking to him and tugging his beer bottle to his lips to take a long sip. "You can play the up close and personal card, as well as the sympathy one," he winks and shrugs. "And boom, you've got yourself a hot blonde riding you."

Santiago's eyes narrow as he listens to his friend and he feels this overwhelming wave of protection flooding through him as Puck talks about Brittany like that. Although being protective over Brittany isn't just an isolated thing, he's protective over all women. Especially when it comes to jackasses like Noah Puckerman. He treats women like pieces of meat (Santiago puts it down to a broken heart which totally isn't an excuse, but he's slightly more sympathetic) and it's totally not cool, which is why he likes to play the Good Cop in their little Good Cop/Bad Cop duo thing they've got going on.

"Just because you banged Sugar and never called her back doesn't mean I want to do the same with Britt," he spits, signaling for more beers with two raised fingers. "And by the way," he looks back to his friend. "Please do something about that girl 'cause she keeps asking me about you."

Puck's eyebrows scrunch together and Santiago's eyes flicker to him before going back to the bar, returning to do a double take as he realizes the expression on his friends face.

"What?"

"I didn't sleep with Sugar," Puck says, tipping back the remains of his beer and sliding it on to the bar. "We just talked and went out for a date."

Santiago, growing confused, tilts his head to the side. "Well she keeps asking me about you so ring her and tell her you're not interested anymore. Don't do a hump and dump 'cause she's my physios receptionist."

"I wasn't... I wasn't going to sleep with her and not call her again," Puck grumbles, lowly. "I don't wanna do that with her."

Dark eyebrows knit together. "So what _do _you wanna do?"

Puck shifts uncomfortably and Santiago watches him, slowly realizing that his friend doesn't actually want to just fuck this chick and leave her, he wants to actually like, _date _her. "Holy shit," he breathes. "You _like _Sugar?" He hisses.

Taking in a deep breath, Puck nods and blows out his cheeks, reaching up with one hand to scratch at his mohawk. "I do, man," he confirms. "But I just don't know how to date a girl."

"_You,_" Santiago starts, raising a brow. "Noah Puckerman, doesn't know how to deal with a girl?" He asks incredulously and rhetorically, slapping his palm down on to his thigh. "Well shave my legs and call me Helen!" He barks, taking out his phone and aiming the camera toward his friend. "This is definitely a kodak moment."

Puck just slaps it away though, and they both laugh as Santiago drops his phone to the sofa, deciding that mocking his friend whilst this kind of shit is going down probably wouldn't be the best idea.

So he sits forward, ears perked up, and prepares himself to listen. "Why don't you just ask her out?"

"I would, but—" Puck stops and swallows, his eyes flitting around the room before they land on Santiago's. "Dude, I've slept with over a hundred girls." Santiago rolls his eyes. "But I've only _dated _two of them, and neither lasted longer than a month," he continues, sighing and falling back to the sofa heavily. "I just don't wanna screw it up."

Santiago bobs his head, understanding his friends problems and well, he can't even argue because Puck's never been a relationship kind of guy. He really did mean it when he's said he's dated two girls. One was back in high school, and she turned out to be gay and madly in love with her best friend, and the other was a woman considerably older than him and everyone knew that wasn't going to end well.

Puck just isn't lucky in the dating circle. He isn't the kind of guy that does dating but Santiago is, and this is why he suggests this: "How about _I _talk to Sugar?"

Eyes slide to him. "You'd talk to her for me?"

"Of course, man," Santiago confirms, offering a smile and clapping his friend on the back. "You're my bro."

Puck smiles back, clearly appreciating the help. "Thanks man," he whispers and they both smile at each other, but then the moment feels a little too girly for them and so Santiago coughs, pulling his hand back and tensing his muscles. They can't do this. They're _men _for God's sake. They should be doing manly, macho stuff, and it seems Puck has the same idea because he shoots up from the couch, clearing his throat and flexing his muscles as if to show his manly qualities.

"I'm gonna watch some football," Santiago says, purposely dipping his voice to make himself look more macho as he switches the TV to ESPN.

Puck nods sternly. "Yeah. I'm gonna go watch some porn," he says, heading off back toward his bedroom.

And Santiago waits until the bedroom door closes before letting his head fall back against the couch, thinking up ways of how to subtly suggest to Sugar to go out with Puck. But he'll find a way.

Maybe he should find a way for himself to ask out Brittany, too.


	3. Chapter 3

******Title: **Faith and Desire [3/7]  
******Rating: **PG-13  
******Length: **4k

******Notes:** Loving writing this... Enjoy!

* * *

Third session.

Third fucking session and Santiago's practically bouncing with excitement on the journey there. Puck eyes him carefully from the drivers seat, probably wondering what the hell he's doing but otherwise stays quiet as the radio plays in the background. But honestly, despite being excited to see golden hair, bright smile and sparkling blue eyes, Santiago's kind of nervous. He knows he likes this girl, and he would _really _like to ask her on a date but he's not sure how to approach the subject.

Though before he can get himself worked up into a mess, Puck pulls up outside the clinic and Santiago grabs his crutches, sliding out the car and getting himself steady before he turns back to the car. He ducks his head slightly, looking through the window and smiles at his friend. "Thanks man," he says, nodding. "And I won't let you down."

Puck's eyes narrow momentarily, etched with confusion but then he gets it and his knuckles turn white where they're grabbing the steering wheel. "Oh, yeah," he chokes out, his face paling. "Please don't. I don't wanna look like an idiot."

Santiago smirks. "You already do, bro," he teases and taps the car. " See you later?"

"Be here in an hour," Puck nods sternly and Santiago grabs his crutches properly again as his friend drives off, leaving him to enter the clinic.

Time to play cupid.

* * *

Sugar's beaming at him when he hobbles in, pushing open the door easily now he's got the method of how to do it down. He gets to the desk, resting his weight onto it and looks down at the receptionist, but finds her staring up apologetically at him, her eyes wide and lip bitten between teeth.

Immediately his head cocks, confusion growing and eyebrow raising because he doesn't have a clue why she's looking at him like this. "What?" He finally asks. "Do I have something on my face?"

Sugar shakes her head. "No, but I'm afraid Brittany's had to cancel your session."

That information makes his heart sinks, the excitement now seeming completely pointless but he tries not to show it. "Why's that?"

"Just some personal stuff," Sugar instantly recites, almost too quickly and suspicion begins growing with him. "We've rearranged your session to tomorrow, though," she continues, typing something into the computer before glancing back at him. "If that's okay?"

"Yeah, that's okay," he replies, but if he's honest, he's more concerned with why Brittany's not here than when his next session's going to be. Though he knows he can't pry, he can't go behind Brittany's back and find information out from Sugar, who might not even tell him, and so he just settles with a nod and a smile. "Thanks."

Sugar offers him a smile and they stare at each other, Santiago wondering whether diving straight in with the whole Puck thing would be way too obvious, and Sugar probably staring because she has no idea why the hell he's still here. After all, his appointment is tomorrow which means he has no real reason to be here anymore.

Ah, fuck it. He doesn't want to seem crazy and he doesn't really know any other way apart from direct, so he just blurts out, "Are you into Puckerman?"

Sugar's head jerks back, and she blinks at him once, twice. "Excuse me?"

"Are you into Puck?" Santiago repeats, suddenly realizing the lack of subtlety in his words. Puck's gonna kill him. "Like, would you go out on a date with him?"

Sugar's eyes narrow as she slowly explains, "I already went on a date with him..."

"I know," Santiago cuts in, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "But would you go out on another?"

"Are you asking me for him?" Sugar says, slowly, obviously not quite understanding this, but Santiago isn't quite sure whether him asking for Puck is a good thing or a bad thing—chicks are seriously hard to read sometimes—and so he just goes for a different approach.

"He's into you, and he wants to take you on dates but he's scared he fucked up last time because he doesn't know how to do the whole 'dating game' thing," he says, finger quoting the second to last words with difficultly as he balances on one leg. "But he's too much of a pussy and cares too much about being a man to say anything," he continues, noting that if Puck was here, Santiago would have no _cajones _anymore. "So I'm taking the reigns on this and trying to play cupid 'cause he really likes you, Sugar, and he's a pretty decent guy."

Sugar takes all of it in, fingernails drumming against the top of her desk as she leans her head in her other hand, but then she suddenly straightens up, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair back. "Okay," she says simply and Santiago just blinks, confused. Isn't she going to ask anything more about it?"

"Just, '_okay_?' You're not bothered by Puck being a pussy or that I'm here asking you out for him 'cause he's too scared?"

Sugar shakes her head, lips pulling down and shoulders lifting. "I think it's kind of cute," she says and grabs a stack of folders from her desk. "Tell him to meet me at _Prezzo's _tonight at 8."

She stands from her chair and moves out from behind the desk, clearly heading into the back to take the folders somewhere and Santiago takes this as his queue to leave, shrugging because he's done what he was asked to do and Puck's going out on another date. Score.

"Oh, and Santiago?"

He looks back over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Maybe you should find yourself a date with someone here, too," she says with a knowing smile before quickly disappearing behind one of the doors.

And Santiago's just left there, blinking to himself and slightly confused.

(Although he totally knows what Sugar's talking about.)

* * *

So after Sugar's suggestion to ask Brittany, or 'someone at the clinic' out on a date, Santiago gets his head together and takes the next waking hours conjuring up a plan of how she's going to do that. And finally, after eating dinner, watching some movies and lying in bed for half an hour, he springs up, an idea springing to mind from before.

He gets fully prepared the next morning, getting Puck to drop him off at the clinic fifteen minutes before his session so he can grab the item needed for the plan at the Barnes & Noble around the corner, and once it's purchased and taken out the bag, receipt in the bin so it doesn't look like he's _just _bought it, he tucks it beneath his arm and heads in for his appointment.

Sugar smiles at him as he comes in and says that Dr. Pierce is just finishing up with another patient, and pushing aside the twinge of jealousy inside his stomach from the image of Brittany touching another guy like she touches him, he takes a seat in the waiting room and opens the book. He skims through the chapters, already knowing the book off by heart—considering he read it in high school like, fifty times, it's not so hard—to refresh himself before he takes the pen out from inside his jacket and scribbles his name in.

He knows this plan is probably a little lame, but it's the only one he could think of that wouldn't make him look like a total dick, and apparently he no longer had his high school copy of the book so he had to buy a new one. The name inside just gives the illusion that he's had it for a while, even though the pristine cover on the front doesn't.

Though as the time goes by, he begins thinking about this plan and realizes that yeah, having the same book as Brittany is something that will give them something to talk about, but considering it's _Perks Of Being A Wallflower, _he realizes that actually it could totally make him look lame, too. So as another patient comes wheeling out in a wheelchair from Brittany's room, and Sugar gives the 'okay' gesture to Santiago, he totally chickens out and stuffs the book down the side of the chair, not caring that he just spent fifteen dollars on something he didn't even use.

And that also means that now he can improvise, and casually slip in the book references with the chance of being able to get out of it and switch topic if it the conversation about it goes bad, without having the damn book in his hand and looking like a total idiot.

Anyway, he hobbles into the room, feeling good about his decision to forgo the book thing and grins when he finds Brittany in the room, already smiling at him. She really does have the most amazing smile.

"Good afternoon, San."

His body shudders at the nickname. "You too, Britt," he says, heading toward the bed and perching on the side, propping his crutches up against it beside him. "How are you today?"

"Pretty good," she bobs her head and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. He wonders what her hair would look down; amazing, he imagines. "And you?"

"Better now," he blurts out, feeling heat spread across his face when he realizes what he said.

Brittany just giggles though, and a smile tugs at his lips immediately. She moves closer to him, picking up the clipboard by her desk on the way, her eyes scanning over it through a pair of oversized nerd glasses. Damn, she's adorable.

"I'm glad," she whispers then looks to him, flipping over a page absently. "How's the ankle?"

"Sore. But a little better than last week."

Brittany nods, leaning across him a little to place the clipboard on the bed beside him. He's sure she could've side stepped to do that, and not got as close but hell, he ain't gonna complain. "The sessions are going well then," she states but he nods anyway. "So today I, going to show you a few stretches for your ankle to do at home."

"Okay," he says, understanding as she picks up his legs carefully and lays them across the bed. "Do I have to have someone to help me do them or..."

"For one of them, yes, but I'm sure your girlfriend wouldn't mind."

His eyes narrow slightly, a grin pulling at his lips. "I haven't got a girlfriend," he responds. "But I live near my best friend, Puck, so he can help."

Brittany glances at him, her eyes sparkling a little. "Great," she chirps and he smiles back at her. He doesn't want to think too much of it, but he has a funny feeling that was Brittany's way of asking if he's single. "Is that the guy Sugar's dating?"

"Yep," he confirms, wincing when cold hands touch his skin.

"Sorry," she apologizes immediately, smiling sheepishly. "Cold hands."

Santiago just grins at her. "It's fine. I'm always a little warm so to me pretty much everyone is cold," he chuckles.

Brittany mirrors the noise and nods, picking up his injured ankle and pressing her palm to the underneath of his foot, bending it back a little. "We make a good pair then, don't we?"

"Definitely," he shoots back, inwardly cursing himself for sounding so eager. But then he really thinks about it and his heart begins picking up its pace as he looks to the bookcase, suddenly thinking it's a good idea to turn up the flirting. If he's going to ask her out, he needs to start doing that.

"So you like Chbosky?" He adds, trying to sound casual but thinking by the way she looks at him it didn't exactly work.

"As in the author?"

He nods, jerking his chin to the bookcase. "Yeah, you've got 'Perks of Being a Wallerflower' up there."

Brittany stops manipulating his ankle and throws a glance over her shoulder to follow his line of sight. "Oh, that. Yeah, no, a patient left it here after a session and never came to pick it up."

A rush of relief and disappointment surge through him simultaneously. On one hand he's really freaking glad he left the damn book in the waiting room but on the other, now he doesn't really know where to go with this. He doesn't want to sound like a complete sap by revealing that he likes to read; not that it's a bad thing, nor does he think Brittany would judge him, but he'd just prefer to impress her.

"Oh. Right," he clears his throat, his mind switching to pick up the conversation from another topic that isn't entirely unrelated. "Yeah, I've never read it and don't really want to," he tries, adding nonchalance. "There's a film out now, isn't-"

The door suddenly bursts open, revealing Sugar standing there with a smile and-

Oh, shit.

"Sorry to disturb, Britt, but Mr. Lopez left his book in the waiting room."

Brittany completely removes her hands from Santiago as he props himself up on his elbows, straightening up and looking toward the receptionist who's now holding up the book in her right hand; and shit, Santiago kind if wants to die right now. His eyes widen, breath hitches and he glances at Brittany, watching the way her eyes narrow as she takes in the title of the book.

FUCK. He needs to recover, and he needs to do it quick.

"That's not mine," he blurts out, his tone holding slight accusation.

Sugar's eyebrows pinch together and she looks down at the book. "It was stuffed down the side of the chair you were sitting on," she fires back, eyes flitting back to him.

"Well maybe it was someone else's then," he continues, ignoring the way Brittany's eyes flicker back to him, a smirk present on her face.

He's seriously trying to not look like a total idiot and it's not fucking working.

"Then why does it have... 'Santiago Lopez' scribbled on the inside of the cover?" Sugar asks, the book now open in hand as she peers at him quizzically and well, Santiago doesn't really have a fucking leg to stand on.

He ducks his head, letting out a long sigh and holds out his hand, heat spreading across his face from humiliation because he's sure he couldn't feel more like a dick if he tried. Wordlessly, Sugar walks over and Santiago keeps his eyes closed in shame as the book's placed in his hand, and he can only think about how fucking stupid Brittany thinks he is as he mutters a small "thank you" to Sugar. Seriously, pretending like he didn't like something because the girl he likes doesn't either? What the fuck? _Is _he in elementary school?

Apparently so, but his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the door shutting as Sugar walks out, and he stays completely silent as he sinks back to the bed, his eyes still closed and book lying by his side because he just can't bring himself to look at Brittany.

"So," Brittany starts, her voice sounding a little amused. Santiago peels open one eye, peering up at his physio, still completely embarrassed. "Shall we get on with the session, Chbosky?"

She says it with a grin and Santiago just lets out a loud groan as he throws his arm over his face.

Real _fucking_ smooth.

* * *

Their fourth session comes and goes, and when they've finished up the stretches and everything physical, Brittany prompts Santiago to sit up on the bed and drags a chair over herself, kicking her feet onto the spot beside his thigh and leaning back a little too casually. It doesn't bother him that she's being rather unprofessional to be honest; in fact, he kind of really likes it and a soft smile crosses his features as he stares down at her, scribbling onto her little clipboard with his information sheet or whatever the hell it is stuck to it.

Tendrils of golden hair falls over her face as she concentrates, and as she writes, Santiago notices that she sticks her tongue out a little to the side and he finds it so freaking adorable that the words just come out. It starts as a small bubble, curdling deep within his stomach but then it's just like word vomit and it grows and grows as he watches her until he's just forced to let it go as it rolls straight from his tongue; and honestly, he could've been smoother about it.

Well, pretty much anything is smoother than pretending to hate a book just because Brittany does so this shouldn't be too bad.

"What are you doing tonight?"

Brittany stops writing, looks up at him for a long second before replying, "Going to the movies," she replies casually and his heart sinks at the thought of a boyfriend. Of course, why wouldn't a magnificent girl like this have someone in her life? "Wanna come?"

It's so shocking that he rocks on the top of the bed, almost toppling off and he sends a quick thanks to the heavens because that would've been too embarrassing to recover from.

"Really?" He gasps, shifting his eyes from left to right before settling them on her. That was easier than he thought. He had considered the whole prohibited dating between the patient and the doctor kind of thing. Though he supposes if the doctor asks the patient out then it may not apply? "We're going to see a movie together, tonight?"

Brittany nods enthusiastically. "Sure. Meet at eight inside by the concession stand?"

Believing it's too good to be true, Santiago just nods but realizes that no, shit, he's _actually _going out on a date with the most incredible woman and he barely had to do a thing. Fuck yeah. "Great. I'll see you tonight."

**"**We're not done yet, silly," Brittany continues, shifting closer to the bed. "We still need to talk about your assistive device."

Santiago lifts a brow at her, feeling a little silly that he was about to get up and walk out (hobble, should he say) but he just pushes past that.**"**I mean, your crutches," the blonde elaborates, waving her hand around and rolling her eyes playfully. "I think it'd be good if you stopped using them."

**"**Really? But I can't walk properly."

Brittany stands from her chair, pushing it with the back of her legs back a bit as she takes his crutches from where they lean against the bed and heads to the small closet Santiago didn't see lingering at the back of the room. "And you never will unless you take that first step," she says, words slightly muffled as she rummages around inside it. She retreats a second later with something behind her back and Santiago tips to the side, trying to see his way around but she wags a finger at him in a 'no' motion and grins. "But I won't leave you standing alone."

He thinks that means that she's going to be with him, or give him a puppy or whatever but when she brings her hand back around, his entire face drops and he looks up at her incredulously. "You cannot be serious," he says, eying the object in her hand. "I'm not using _that_."

**"**You have to," Brittany shoots back, urging the cane toward him. "Otherwise there'll be too much weight on your ankle and you might risk further injuring yourself," she informs him and really, he can't think of anything worse. "Plus I highly doubt you'll be able to walk more than a hundred meters without any assistive device anyway, so you don't really have a choice."

She finishes her sentence with the largest of grins and Santiago lets out an angry exhale, but both of them know it's not really angry.

**"**Fine," he huffs, snatching the cane from her hand and examining it. "But if people start calling me House I am throwing this thing in the freaking trash."

Brittany's face lights up and she giggles, reaching over to stroke her hand over his forearm. "That's fine. So, we're done for the session now, and I'll see you tonight?"

Excitement surges through him as he thinks of tonight but then comes a surge of nerves. Still, he nods with a tamed smile and uses the cane to aid him in climbing off the bed whilst Brittany watches him warily. They both get to the door and all of a sudden, Santiago feels a little nervous. He stops when he opens the door and looks back at his physio, chewing on his bottom lip and debating whether or not to say something more or even offer a hug considering they're going out tonight.

Instead, he decides to go for something a little more casual. "So, what cinema?"

**"**The one on 42nd Street," Brittany smiles and reaches across to hold the door open.

**"**At eight?"

**"**At eight."

Santiago grins. "Awesome. I'll see you there," he says before leaving, his stomaching fluttering and flipping.

* * *

So on the top ten most embarrassing things that can happen on dates, Santiago might have to take the top spot.

Nothing major happens. He doesn't forget Brittany's name, or turn up with his zipper undone. Nor does he do a Ben Stiller and turn up with spunk dripping off his ear. He turns up with his clothes neat and pristine, his hair perfectly combed but not in a douchey or pretentious way and he smells nice because he used his Hugo Boss stuff that Rachel bought him for Christmas. Bit random, but he supposes she's not actually that bad when you get past the annoying, short exterior.

It's all good, and he heads in past the box office without buying a ticket to the concession stand, waiting around with his hand in his pocket and the other resting on the cane as he steadies himself in the corner, searching for Brittany.

Barely five minutes after he gets there, he spots Brittany walking through the door, unwrapping the scarf from her neck and rocking onto the balls of her feet as she scans across the crowd. His entire body immediately lifts, his face sparking and he mutters a polite "excuse me" to a woman as he passes by her, heading toward the girl he's staring at.

Except he has to stop halfway there, freezing in the middle of the movie theater because it seems Brittany's not alone. About six or seven people, a mix of men and women, all walk in behind her, grouping with her and muttering things in her ear which she responds to. Santiago watches her shrug, sees her point toward the box office and lets the people leave her as she stays where she is, still searching around the crowd until their eyes meet from across the room, blue ones instantly sparking but darker ones flicking away.

Shit. How could he have been so stupid? This wasn't a freaking date. This was Brittany inviting him on a group outing to the freaking cinema.

And the worst part is he can't even run out the damn room because of his stupid fucking ankle.

**"**San," Brittany breathes, suddenly appearing in front of him.

He takes a step back on instinct, the blood rushing to his face from his stupidity. It feels like thousands of needles are pricking into his face as heat spreads across it and he wonders how he can hide the ridiculous amount of disappointment he feels.

**"**Uh, hey," he mumbles out. "Are those your friends?"

Brittany looks back, following Santiago's line of sight and twists her head back to nod at him. "Yeah," she confirms. "I'll introduce you in a minute."

Small stutters and strange noises come from his mouth, trying to tell her that no, it's okay, but then there's a hand sliding down his arm—the one _not _holding the cane—and drags him over slowly until he's standing before seven faces, staring right at him. That only makes the humiliation and embarrassment multiply, but he knows they don't know about his thoughts and so tries to act cool, putting on a happy expression and trying his best not to feel the disappointment pressing down on his chest.

Brittany introduces each person, but it seems that he just can't seem to repress the feelings he has and so by the time they're all introduced and ready to get in line to buy their tickets, Santiago knows he needs to leave. He just feels so stupid and so after all Brittany's friends have left, he wraps his fingers around her wrist to keep her in place and waits until they're alone to speak.

**"**I'm actually... I'm gonna head home," he says, clearing his throat. "Not feeling great," he scrunches up his nose and drops her wrist to press his hand to his stomach. "Must have eaten something funny earlier."

Brittany stares at him suspiciously, her head twisting slightly and eyes narrowing. "You were fine a minute ago?"

**"**Been feeling pretty strange since our session but didn't want to cancel on you tonight. Just in case," he tries, lamely, rubbing at his neck.

The blonde steps closer, staring up at him with soft blue eyes that makes his heart skip a beat. "I would've understood," she whispers but jerks her head back, clearly processing his words. "Wait, just in case?" Her head tilts slightly. "In case of what?"

It's something he didn't want her to ask, and technically, he probably should've worded his excuse differently because of course it'd lead to this damn question. Of course she'd ask why he wouldn't want to cancel on her 'just in case' because there's obviously another part to that story. Yet because he's so pressured, because he's already humiliated and embarrassed, he can't seem to think of freaking anything to say apart from the truth, which is why that just comes out.

**"**In case you were alone."

Fair eyebrows scrunch together. "Alone?" Brittany repeats, clearly confused but then as the seconds go by, her face slowly drops into realization. "_Oh_," she breathes out, her lips pursing into an 'o' shape. "You thought it was just us?"

Somehow the humiliation grows even more and he knows if he was an asshole, he could totally play this off cool and simultaneously piss Brittany off, but he doesn't want to do that and finds himself just offering the smallest of shrugs in response as the heat spreads further over his face. He doesn't know what else to say, or do for that matter and Brittany just tilts her head to the side, her face turning sympathetic and shit, if he didn't feel like a total dick before he does now.

She looks freaking _sorry _for him.

**"**San—"

**"**No, really," he quickly cuts in, shaking his head and putting out his hand. "I'm just gonna head home."

He walks away without saying goodbye and tries not to think about how damn ridiculous he looks with this cane, on top of the sheer humiliation running through his veins.

Behind him, Brittany just drops her hands and bites her lip as she watches him leave.

* * *

**Sad times. But let's make it happy with some feedback, please? :)**


	4. Chapter 4

******Title: **Faith and Desire [4/7]  
******Rating: **PG-13  
******Length: **6.2k

******Notes:** Hope you're all enjoying it :) Thanks for the reviews!

/

He doesn't want to be a complete child, but as he sits at home, waiting for Sam to come and pick him up and take him to his fifth session with Dr. Pierce, he wonders if he could get out of this by pulling a sicky. Or like, saying he's sorting out his sock drawer or something. But then the front door swings open and Sam comes barreling in, his car keys in one hand and a can of Red Bull in the other, a too-big smile on his face.

Santiago just rolls his eyes. "Someone got laid last night," he grumbles.

Sam chuckles, chugs back his drink and crunching the can in his hand. "Well I _do _have a girlfriend," he responds, throwing the can into the bin with perfect aim at the same time he walks over to Santiago and slumps down into the space next to him. "We going?"

**"**No," he grunts, eyes trained on the TV. "I don't feel like going today."

Sam looks at him, confusion etched over his features. "Why?"

The memory of last night races through Santiago's mind again but he chooses it'd probably be best not to spill that as just thinking about it makes him want to huff and grovel in his own pit of self-pity like a little kid. He really doesn't need Sam mocking him to add to the list of things he's pissed off about today.

**"**I just don't want to," he mutters, voice low but his friend just stares and he eventually huffs and looks to him. "Can you just drop it? I don't wanna go. End of."

**"**No, I can't just 'drop it', bro," Sam says, shifting forward on the couch and resting his arms on his thighs. "What's gotten into you?

"Nothing," Santiago spits, pushing up from the sofa and heading into the kitchen. Sam follows. "I just don't wanna go," he tries again, rubbing at the back of his head whilst his free hand pulls at the fridge door, eyes scanning over the contents. Shit. They really need to do some grocery shopping. "It's my second-to-last one and I just don't see the point in going if I can walk fine."

It's a lame excuse, but it's the best he can come up with on the spot. Plus, Sam's never been the brightest of guys so maybe he won't see through it.

_Maybe._

Although, the blonde guy, leaning against the doorway, just eyes him suspiciously. "Is this do with Dr. Pierce?"

"What?" Santiago whips his head around, hand dropping from his neck. "No, God. It's not to do with her." He pauses, closing the fridge door and turning around, arms folding over his chest. "Why would it be? I have no problem with her."

The way he says it clearly gives him away because his voice is hurried, the words too, and he can feel his face twitching with the need to change expression but he's concreting a stoic one on there, hoping that his friend won't see past it. Though, he does think by the way Sam's looking at him, eyes slightly squinted like he's trying to read Santiago like a book, that he should probably give his friend more credit because Sam's just not buying _any _of this.

Maybe he's not that dumb.

"Then you won't have a problem going to your second-to-last session, considering you've already paid upfront," he draws and fuck, Santiago doesn't know what excuse to use now.

So with an angered huff—yes, apparently he _is _a third grader—he rolls his eyes, storms out the kitchen, forcefully bumping his shoulder with Sam's and grabs his jacket from the back of the sofa before heading to the door. "Fine, let's just get it over and done with," he grunts.

Behind him, Sam just grins and then follows him out to the car.

/

The wary smile that Sugar wears when Santiago walks in is just the cherry on top of the cake because it states by itself that Brittany's already told the receptionist about the movie-date-that-wasn't-a-date fiasco; and well, Santiago already feels like the biggest idiot to walk the earth so this just makes him feel... well, it just makes him feel _great._

"Hey, Santiago."

His lips curve up in a light tipped smile, hands digging deep into his pockets and shoulders squaring as he stops in front of the desk. "Hey, Sugar," he replies, eyes flitting to the hallway to the left of the desk. "Should I go in?"

Sugar nods softly, her hand sweeping to her right but her eyes are sympathetic and he has to look away, biting his tongue because he really _hates _that look. Yet he still heads down the hallway, finding the last door on the left and takes in a deep breath as he takes one hand out his pocket, reaching for the door handle and pressing down, knowing that this hour is going to go on for _so _long.

Still, it's time to face the music and letting out an exhale, he pushes the door open to reveal Brittany sitting on the bed, her hands in her lap, eyes focused on her fingers twiddling with each other. Her shoulders are slumped, her aura a little gray and he sucks in his lips, wondering how much crap he'd get if he just walked out of here and never came back.

But before he can even make the decision to do so, Brittany whips her head up, apparently just busting from her thoughts to hear Santiago close the door behind him and looks so relieved by his presence that he's tempted to walk back out and in again, just to see her expression change.

"San," she breathes, slowly shifting off the bed and standing sheepishly a few steps in front of him. "You came."

Clenching his jaw, Santiago nods, pushing back the feeling of stupidity washing over him. Even Brittany didn't think he'd come to the session today, which means she totally knows he must feel like an idiot. What a wonderful day this is already turning out to be.

"Yeah, well, I have two more sessions and I have to come," he says, his eyes drifting off to the room instead of meeting deep blue. "Doctors orders."

The smile on Brittany's face falters, and he hates the way he can see it through his peripheral vision. Looking away was supposed to freaking stop him noticing it. It was the whole reason he rudely looked away in the first place.

"Is that really the reason you came?" Brittany asks, dipping her head and looking up nervously through her lashes.

And the words are said so quietly and hesitantly that they punch Santiago in the chest, forcing him to come out with the truth. He just doesn't have it in him to be a dick. In another world, maybe, but not now. Not to Brittany. "No," he finally admits. "It's not the only reason I came."

It seems to make Brittany a little happier because the corners of her lips tug up, but then she shifts back and perches on the edge of the bed, her hand falling to the space beside her and patting the cushion to gesture for him to join her, but Santiago can't quite do that. He's not sure he wants to go over there because if Brittany had any feelings for him then she would've said after she figured out he thought it was a date; and he just doesn't want to get close to her physically when he's so far away from her emotionally.

But it really fucking sucks because the instant he shakes his head, the blonde doctor looks away, noting the rejection and Santiago's back to feeling like the biggest dick in the world. _Great._

"Should I just go?" He suddenly suggests, thinking it might be best for both of them. "I don't want it to be awkward and I can just get another physio for these last two—"

"No," Brittany cuts in, hopping up from her spot. "I don't—I don't want you to go."

It makes his heart skip a beat, but at the same time his heart clenches because he knows it's not meant in the way he wants it to be. But then he takes in the way she's looking at him, the way her eyes meet his with this slight uncertainty and he suddenly gets why she wants him to stay. She wants to know more about how he feels. First though, if that's going to happen, he needs to apologize. He needs to apologize for jumping to conclusions.

"Then, I—" he pauses, swallowing audibly and lets his eyes flit away for a split second. "I'm sorry," he says, vision landing on Brittany as she comes toward him. "I shouldn't have... shouldn't have assumed that we were on a date," he mumbles, trying not to feel like a fool.

(It doesn't work.)

"No, no," Brittany steps forward even closer, her blue eyes now right there, staring into dark ones. "I didn't mean that," she says and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. She didn't mean what? For him to apologize? "I just..." She reaches for his hand, takes it between hers and he ignores the way his spine desperately wants to shudder at the touch. She's just so _soft, _and he has to force that thought out his mind when she looks up at him nervously through her lashes. "Can I ask you something?"

Santiago gulps. It's not exactly hard to guess what's coming next. "Uh, yeah," he agrees. "You can."

"Okay," Brittany says, and she dips her head quickly before meeting his eyes again, searching them, darting between them like she's trying to find an answer for a question she hasn't even asked. "Do you..." her eyes squint a little, almost like she's fearing rejection. "Do you like me?"

He knew it was coming, but it doesn't stop him from being a little shocked by the forwardness of it. He blinks, not showing the shock outside but feeling it inside, and debates whether he should just lie and say he doesn't. Though he does acknowledge the negatives of doing that, like hurting Brittany and losing her completely, and frankly he'd prefer to have her in his life as a friend than nothing at all. No matter how painful.

Plus it's kind of hard to deny, especially after everything.

"Yeah," he admits through a whisper, dropping his gaze from hers, his throat suddenly thick. "I like you."

"I like you, too," Brittany blurts out and Santiago's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "But this," she gestures between the two of them with her finger. "This can't happen."

She's biting her lip now, and he's not quite sure how his hope can surge up so quickly and crash within a couple of seconds. So much so that he just stays still, his face expressionless because his body's kind of confused as to how to react. Should he be happy that Brittany likes him back? Or should he be bummed out that they can't become anything?

Damn it. Feelings are so fuckign complicated.

"Not because I don't want us to, though," the blonde finally follows and Santiago's shoulders slump, defeated by confusion. He really doesn't have a fucking clue what's going on now. Add _girls_ onto the list of things that are seriously complicated.

"Then why?"

Brittany swallows. "I'm not allowed to," she tells him and his mind instantly goes to ridiculous ideas of strict parents and asshole friends. "Regulations say I can't date patients."

It makes him feel a little better, he guesses, and so he chooses to stay on the positive side and lets his lips curve up at the side as he stares down at her. "So you _do _wanna go on a date with me?" He says through a smirk and Brittany's face stretches into a grin as he reaches down, taking her other hand and letting their clasped hands hang between them, his thumb stroking over hers.

"I do," she throws in a nod with her words but then her face drops. "But, I can't."

The opportunity to go on a date with quite possibly the most perfect woman in the world is right there in front of him, and there's no way, come hell or high water, that he's just going to let it pass. So he searches his mind quickly, trying to find a way around it but then realizes that actually, this is his second-to-last session. Which means he's not going to be her patient after next week's session.

"What about after the sessions?" He exclaims, trying not to let the desperation creeping into his tone show. "After next week, after our last one I'm no longer your patient." Brittany stays silent, her eyes darting between each of his and he can see he's going to have to say something more. "That means you won't be breaking any rules or doing whatever to those stupid regulations."

"San, I—" she sighs and slumps her shoulders again, picking her head up slowly. "I'm not sure."

Dark eyebrows pinch together, a crease forming between them and Santiago just gazes, a little confused. A minute ago she said she wanted to go on a date with him and now she's not sure, even though after their sessions, they're not going to put her job at risk or whatever?

Damn. He can feel a freaking headache coming on.

"But you just said—"

Suddenly, Brittany steps back, taking her hands away and folding her arms over her chest. Rejection stings through him, hot and sharp, and he furrows his brows even further. He's going to need an Advil after this.

"There's things you don't know about me," Brittany says, her voice harder and flatter than he's ever heard before. "About my personal life," she elaborates and his head cocks slightly to the side, intrigued. "But I can't tell you about them."

The way he says it makes Santiago feel like he's intruding on something, and fearing he's gone too far—pushed her too hard to go on a date with him—he takes a step back, swallowing the rejection and nodding, slowly. After all, there's only so much he can do to ask someone out, and who knows, maybe Brittany was only saying she liked him back to save his feelings. She's that kind of girl, a nice one who doesn't want to hurt his feelings, so maybe that's the case.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, lifting a shoulder. "I didn't mean to like, piss you off or anything."

Brittany lets out a loud sigh, stepping forward again and Santiago doesn't really know what's going on here. It feels like a push and pull situation, but he's not sure where he stands in it. "You didn't, San," she whispers. "I just... You're a great guy, but—"

"_But_—" he echoes, dropping his head and closing his eyes in disappointment. There's always a _but._

A hand cups his cheek, coaxing him to look up and when he does, he meets a soft, apologetic smile and God, even during a rejection she's freaking beautiful. "No, I mean it," she tells him, her eyes searching his. "You're a lovely guy—the best I think I've ever met, actually—but people just get a little... _more _than expected when they date me."

Brown eyes narrow, taking in the hidden statement behind her words, but he's unable to figure out from that _what _that extra is. Though he feels like he shouldn't pry, and he still doesn't know if this is just Brittany's way of letting him down gently. He doesn't know if she actually _does _feel anything for him, and he doesn't want to push her anymore. If she doesn't want to go on a date with him, then she doesn't. He can accept that.

"Okay," he breathes out the word and quirks his lips up. "I understand." He takes the hand away from his cheek, holding it between his palms and giving her a warm smile. "Let's just be friends, then?"

Brittany gives a small smile back, but he swears he sees a little regret in her eyes as she says, "Okay."

But it's not like he can do anything about it; so he can just be her friend, whether that's just a temporary position or permanent. He can do it.

(He thinks.)

/

"Dude! Pass the fucking ball!"

"I've got a clear run!"

"You're a fucking dumbass. Just pass the damn ball!"

"No."

"Puckerman, I swear to God if you lose this ball—"

"Shit."

On screen, Kobe Bryant fails to basket the ball and it gets passed off onto an posing Atlanta Hawks player going by the name of 'Teague'. Santiago turns to his friend after pausing the game, bringing back his fist and jabbing him hard in the upper arm, making Puck jerk back, clutch his arm and rub at it as he hisses out his mouth in pain.

"What the fuck, Lopez!?"

Santiago grins smugly and turns back to the game, pressing the start button to get back to the game. They've been playing _NBA 2K13_ for the past two hours, and okay, maybe it's a little sad but it's raining outside and he didn't really feel like going and getting soaked whilst playing a game of one-on-one basketball that he knew he was going to win anyway. So they decided it were easier to just come chill at Santiago's apartment, play a little NBA, drink a few beers and apparently, beat each other up.

"I told you to pass the ball," he shoots back in reply, eying his friend. "Now quit being a little bitch and get back to the game."

Puck clicks his tongue at him, but otherwise does as told and they play for another two minutes before the shrill sound of Santiago's phone goes off and he blindly reaches for it, answering it without checking the caller ID and shoving it between his shoulder and ear to hold it up so he continue playing.

"Go for Lopez."

"_Um hi," _the voice says. _"Is this Santiago?"_

"Yep, who's this?" He mumbles, bumping into Puck as he gets the ball on screen and runs dribbles it around one of the opposing players.

"_It's Brittany."_

Santiago's thumb immediately shoots to the start button, pausing the game and his mouth drops open. Puck shoots him a look but he just ignores it. "As in, Doctor Pierce?"

Down the line, Brittany giggles. _"Yeah," _she confirms and so many butterflies form in Santiago's stomach that he fears he might just start flying. _"Hi."_

"Uh, hey," he draws out, pushing up from the sofa and flicking Puck in the head when his friend waggles his eyebrows at him. He moves into the kitchen, away from his friend and to the quiet, seeing as apparently Puck's decided to play on without him and takes the phone out from between his shoulder and cheek. "How did you get my number?"

"_Oh, I_, _erm—it was on your records."_

The words are said with a shaky voice and he grins to himself, knowing that Brittany took time to look through however many files she has just to find his number. "Right, okay," he says through a smile. "So, can I help you or something?"

"_Well, I was thinking about your next session."_

Brown eyes narrow. "Okay..."

"_And this is purely from a physical therapist to patient point of view, but I thought since your next one is basically me just suggesting a load of exercise and sport you need to do to strengthen your ankle... I thought maybe we could have a more... _physical _lesson."_

Santiago's interest perks up, the smile growing on his face and he nods. "What are you suggesting, doctor?"

It's hard not to sigh at the sound of Brittany's laugh, and so he doesn't even try and hide it when she giggles down the line.

"_I was thinking maybe a bike ride?" _She suggests and honestly, he can't say he's ever really been into cycling, but he think he might just get into it now.

Though as he thinks about it, thinks about how those crappy romance films have a couple riding through forests on bikes, he figures that this sounds awfully like a date; which, the last he heard, wasn't on the cards for them. "This sounds a lot like you're asking me on a date."

"_I'm not," _Brittany fires back immediately but it's said so quickly that he's sure she was expecting it. She totally thinks it sounds like a date, too. _"This is just... this is just part of physical therapy. We're just not stuck inside a room for an hour or two."_

A session that sounds more like a date is up for the taking, and so he decides not to argue anymore about it. "Okay," he bobs his head, turning to rest his ass against the kitchen counter. "When do you wanna go?"

(Later on, he'll realize that this was supposed to be a _session, _which means it should've been on their specified session time.)

"_You're going to have to start and build up, so, I mean, it's probably better if you get started as early as possible,_" Brittany informs in a formal tone. _"So what about tomorrow?"_

A grin spreads slowly across Santiago's face. "I can do tomorrow," he agrees with a nod. "Where d'you wanna go?"

Brittany doesn't even let a beat pass before she's replying, _"There's a park two blocks down from the clinic. It's nice and has a back trail up to a view point if you feel up to it; plus it's halfway between your house and mine so_—_"_

"You know where I live?"

He can just imagine the embarrassed flush on her cheeks. _"It's on your records," _she shoots back but her voice is a little higher than usual, almost shy.

(Damn, she's adorable.)

"I know," he chuckles. "I was just teasing, Britt."

"_Oh," _she says and he can see her face in his mind right now, mouth popping open and an embarrassed smile tugging at her lips as she bites down on them. _"So, do you wanna? Tomorrow, I mean? For a session in the park?" _He's about to reply but she cuts in again. _"Apparently the weather's going to pick up by then, so."_

It's getting harder and harder to fight that this _isn't _a date when Brittany's being all cute and nervous, but Santiago doesn't want to scare her off by saying that, so he just nods and says, "I'm game. How's midday for you?"

"_Perfect. Meet you there?"_

"Definitely," Santiago agrees, feeling his stomach flip and flop, knowing that he's going to see her tomorrow. "Bye, Britt."

"_Bye, San."_

He hangs up, pulling the phone away from his ear, and even as he walks back through the kitchen and into the living room again, joining his friend on the sofa once more, he doesn't take his eye of it.

"What was that about?" Puck asks, clicking furiously at the controller in hand.

Santiago looks over his phone again, the conversation running through his mind and he finds himself grinning like an idiot, and not caring that he's pretty much ignoring his friend's question when he comes back with, "Do you have a bike?"

This gets Puck to stop the game, and he turns, eyes narrowed and quizzical. "As in the cycling kind of bike?" Santiago nods. "Well, yeah," he nods, dumbly, clearly completely shocked and confused by the question. "Why?"

A smirk just pulls at the corners of Santiago's lips though as he looks back down to his phone again, thinking that tomorrow, at twelve in the afternoon, he's going to be seeing Brittany _outside _the clinic. His heart skips a beat at the thought, his throat thickening a little from nerves, but he's just too damn excited to feel any of the negative emotions as he glances back up to his friend, the smirk twisting into a wide grin.

"Because I think I've got a date with Brittany," he says, the smugness setting in.

And Puck, being Puck, just bobs his head and offers his hand up for a high five. "Fuck yeah!"

Santiago takes it with a smile, slumping back into the couch after, staring blankly in disbelief.

He's actually got a chance with her.

/

Cycling, as it turns out, is pretty hard work.

Going around on flat surfaces is pretty easy, and that's what they were doing for the first half an hour in the park, but then Brittany smirked at him, asked if he was up for a challenge and Santiago was on a damn date with the girl, so he'd pretty much do anything she said. They both headed off, Brittany leading, toward a trail that he could only assume she meant as the 'back trail' and soon enough they were going over harder terrain, facing slight hills and burning under the heat of the sun as they headed up some type of, what seemed like at the same, freaking _mountain._

But it was all in good thought, because now, as the end of the trail comes into view, Santiago smiles and takes a deep breath, breaking out onto flatness and... _gravel?_

"Where are we?" He manages to shout, panting a little as Brittany cycles in front of him, giving him a perfect view of her ass. And _damn, _she's got one hell of an ass.

(So what? He's human and a guy, for that matter. Give him a break.)

"Wait and see!" She calls back and he grins to himself, trying to pick up the pace because he's already a little worn out and he doesn't want to seem like a complete pansy if she's not even breaking a sweat.

They continue cycling for another five minute before they head through a little patch of tall bushes and trees, and then finally come out to a large opening, looking out upon the entire city of Los Angeles. The sun beats down on them, and Santiago slides to a stop, shifting half off his (borrowed) bike and planting a foot on the ground, the frame of the bicycle resting between his legs. His eyes take in the scenery, and he's lived in LA for the majority of his life, but never has he been up _here. _He never even knew this place freaking existed.

The sound of gravel crunching and a bike sliding catches his attention, and he snaps his vision to Brittany, stopping beside him and matching his position, the bike resting between her legs as she takes her water bottle off the clasp by the handlebars and takes a long pull. But that's not really what catches his attention, because as he does the same as her, and drinks out his own water bottle, he notices that her skin isn't shining with sweat, nor is she panting heavily and he can't quite believe it.

"Shit," he says, bending over a little to catch his breath. "I'm outta shape."

Brittany screws the cap of her bottle back on and throws him a grin. "You've just been out of order," she points out, eyes flitting down to his ankle.

He smiles back but straightens up, realizing bending over doesn't actually help. "True. How come you're not out of breath?"

With one swift movement, the blonde hops off her bike, lets it fall gently to the ground and steps up toward the little bench a few meters in front of them, perching gingerly on the side, arms gripping the sides of the seat by her thighs. "Some of us keep fit," she teases, adding in a wink.

It completely catches him off guard, but he supposes that even though they're not on an official date, it may be the closest he ever gets and that means he needs to step it up a little. Desperate times cause for desperate measures, and all that.

"I'd say I'm pretty fit," he says and moves beside her, turning his body as his hand reaches down, peeling up the hem of his shirt to reveal a toned six pack, with all the sculptured muscle definition and everything. Brittany's mouth drops open, a visible flush spreading up her neck—one that _can't _be blamed on the heat—and he realizes it was a bold and _incredibly _cocky move, but he's not going to take it back.

"Uh, yeah, you—um, are pretty... pretty fit," she finishes off, her cheeks turning a dark pink as she turns her face away, trying to hide it. "So, how's the ankle?" She quickly follows, clearly trying to switch the conversation and Santiago just smirks.

"A little sore," he tells her, taking the seat beside her and stretching out his leg, rolling his ankle in the way she told him. "But it's not that bad, so we're getting better."

Brittany flashes a grin, bobbing her head. "Good."

From then on it delves into a small patch of silence, and Santiago feels like he should say something to feel the void. He's supposed to pick up on something cool, something to keep her interested and maybe something that might get him a brownie point and possibly another one of these 'not a date, dates'; but instead of talking about his job, or being in the BBLB program, something else just pours out instead.

"I just wanted to say thank you, by the way," he chirps, smoothing his hand over his cropped hair. There was no need for the gel he put on earlier. Brittany twists her head, cocking it adorably and he's so distracted by how damn cute she is that he almost forgets his train of thought. "For my sessions," he elaborates, sitting up a little straighter and dangling his hands between his legs. "I know I've got my last one coming up so, I just wanted to say thank you for the sessions, and making them enjoyable. And, you know," a grin tugs at his lips. "Not making me feel like a _total _idiot even though I acted like one."

He reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, feeling a little awkward but Brittany's right there, beaming a bright, white smile at him and bumping her shoulder with his.

"You don't need to say thank you," she murmurs. "It's just my job."

"I know, but... it didn't feel like I was your patient."

It's supposed to be a good point, but Brittany's face drops. "Yeah," she says, swallowing loudly. "I'm not sure that's a good thing, though," she adds, sadly.

"Well, it is," he retorts. "Because otherwise I would've felt like an even bigger dick than I did and I'm not sure I could've handled that."

This time, Brittany giggles and he breathes out a sigh of relief, warmth trickling through him because _he _made her _giggle. _Knowing that really is amazing.

"I didn't think you were a dick," she replies, twisting her head and letting her eyes slide to him. "I thought it was—" she pauses, biting down on her tongue visibly as if she's debating whether to say the words, but in the end, she does anyway. "I thought it was cute."

Santiago ducks his head, suddenly feeling bashful and he's not sure how a girl can make him feel like this. None have before. "You have to say that. You wouldn't tell me I looked like a dick because you're too nice."

"No, really," Brittany tries, bumping his shoulder again. "I thought it was cute that you were trying to get my attention." He looks at her and she nods. "I mean, the book thing was the best."

A flood of embarrassment and humiliation crashes down upon him at the memory and he lets out a groan. "Damn," he breathes, covering his face with his hands and muffling his words into them. "Please don't ever tell anyone that. Not even a story for your grandchildren in like, forty years time," he laughs, pulling back to glance at her again. "That was _so _embarrassing."

The most heavenly chuckle flows straight from pink lips and Brittany's face scrunches up. Her eyes brighten too, and Santiago finds himself momentarily breathless at the sight. He's made her laugh before, sure, but he's never made her laugh like _this, _and now he thinks that's all he's ever going to try to do because just... _wow._

"I won't," she agrees and sticks her tongue out playfully. "But come on, the look on your face when Sugar said your name was on the inside of the book was priceless."

It pulls another embarrassed, guttural groan from the pit of his stomach and he rubs over his face, trying to hide the way blood rushes to his cheeks again. This is just humiliating. "Shut up," he draws out, nudging her shoulder.

Brittany just arches a brow, still smiling and laughing a little as she says, "Don't nudge me."

He takes it as a challenge, twisting his body and lifting a brow in her direction. "And why's that? Because you're fitter than me and you'll use your fitness to take me down?"

"I'm totally fitter than you," she barks back, eyes sparkling and he narrows his eyes.

"Oh, yeah?"

Brittany ducks her head, laughing to herself and Santiago just watches in awe, but then she looks back up and he swears to the man in the sky that he stops breathing. They're so close now. Like, _so, so _close and his mind just blanks of every thought running through there as his eyes flicker down, settling upon pink lips that look so fucking soft he yearns to know what they feel like pressed against his own. The mere thought has him wetting his lips, and he looks back up to meet her eyes, his breath hitching in his throat because she's not moving away and clearly know his intention.

So taking that as a green light, he shifts a little closer, reaches one hand up, palm moist with sweat and grabs Brittany's chin, tilting her head up a little and ducking his head until their lips are barely half an inch apart.

Brittany still doesn't move though, and Santiago can't tell whether she's tensing or wishing this wasn't happening and so he spares one last glance at Brittany, finding her eyes closed and counts to three in his head before he closes the gap between them, his heart jumping as he feels and tastes sweet, warm breath against his lips.

But then it's gone, and he falls forward into nothing as Brittany suddenly shoots up and away from him, standing with blue eyes flickering away and arms folded tightly over her chest. Rejection stings through him again, and he has to admit he's getting pretty fucking confused because a minute ago she was basically begging him to kiss her with her eyes, yet when goes to do so, she freaks out?

What if she didn't want him to kiss her though?

_Shit. _

What if he just screwed this up before it's even begun?

FUCK.

Fear sets into his veins, panic sizzling beneath his skin and he suddenly can't believe what he just did. "Britt, I—"

"I can't," Brittany cuts in, her voice hard. "I'm sorry."

Santiago's eyebrows scrunch together, but as he takes in her stance, the way she's looking away and nervously fidgeting. He's sure she _did _want to kiss him, but he's fucked if he knows why they didn't. "Britt—"

"I just can't," Brittany sobs and walks swiftly back to her bike looking a little distraught, picking it up and hopping on, cycling off behind the bushes they came from wordlessly.

Santiago just slumps against the bench, slapping his palm to his forehead and throwing his head back.

He shouldn't have tried to kiss her.

/


End file.
